Ultimate Challenge
by Abernathy
Summary: Chapter 10 up... Scarlett and Lady Jaye compete in the toughest competition the military has to offer...
1. Default Chapter

Description: Lady Jaye and Scarlett are the first women to compete in the most grueling competition the army has to offer.  
  
Little disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters - they belong to Hasbro and Marvel Comics. Just borrowing them for fun!  
  
***  
  
"Not too sure I'm enjoying this," Lady Jaye grunted, as she finished the last rep of crunches. Her stomach muscles burned and screamed out for her to stop.  
  
"Twenty more," Scarlett groaned, fighting off the burn. "One, two, three-" She flopped down, exhausted. "Forget it. I'm out."  
  
"Yes!" Jaye said, landing on the mat beside her. "That means I can stop."  
  
"YOU TWO SOLDIERS GET YOUR BUTT IN GEAR AND FINISH THE SET," Beachhead barked, spying them from the other end of the gym.  
  
"Beach," Scarlett protested, springing up. She offered her hand to Jaye and pulled her up. "We've already done triple the usual amount of crunches. I think I've done some serious internal damage."  
  
"Listen, I told you two that this competition wasn't for wimps," Beachhead said, glaring at them. "I told you both that if you wanted to win the Army Ultimate Challenge you'd have to put in extra work. And what did you say, Lady Jaye?"  
  
"I'm up to anything you throw at me," Jaye muttered.  
  
"I CAN'T HEAR YOU!"  
  
"I'M UP TO ANYTHING YOU THROW AT ME, DRILL SERGEANT!" she yelled, snapping to attention.  
  
"Now, it's not my fault the army suddenly wants women represented in this competition," Beachhead said, pacing back and forth. "Personally, I would've preferred an all-male team. Luckily, we got a bunch of Ultimate Challenge vets in the G.I. Joe mix: Roadblock and Gung-ho to name a few. It's not that I don't value your contribution to the Joe team, ladies. It's just that this is real tough."  
  
"Excuse me, Beachhead, but so are we," Lady Jaye said, her eyes flashing.  
  
"Well, Twinkies," Beachhead snarled. "Finish the reps, then."  
  
Scarlett and Lady Jaye threw themselves back on the mat, and started doing crunches, suppressing groans as pain shot through their abdomens. Beachhead crossed his arms and watched them, his mask hiding a smile of satisfaction on his face. He didn't like using the "male chauvinist prick" trump card to motivate these girls, but it had to be done. He knew he was pushing their limits. most soldiers would've given up awhile back. The fact these two had stuck it out was a real testament to their sheer willpower. While Beachhead would never admit it, he was proud of these two Joes. Not only did he want to win this competition, he wanted to break records WITH these girls on his team. Not girls - women, he corrected himself silently, watching them as they struggled through the pain. Not women - soldiers.  
  
"There you go, Beach," Scarlett panted. "Done our reps."  
  
"Hmm?" Beachhead said. "Sorry, I was distracted. Didn't see it. You'll have to do them again."  
  
Jaye's mouth dropped.  
  
"Close your yapper, girlie!" Beachhead barked. "AGAIN! ONE! TWO! THREE-"  
  
***  
  
Flint and Duke looked up from their dinners and studied the women as they walked into the mess. Lady Jaye held her head up high and tried to walk normally, but she could barely lift her feet off the floor. Scarlett's legs wobbled like a newborn foal. They nodded towards their male companions, got their dinners and made their way to the table.  
  
Duke patted the chair beside him and looked at Scarlett with concern.  
  
Jaye threw her tray down on the table and lowered herself gingerly.  
  
Flint's eyebrow perked up. "Another tough session with the Jane Fonda aerobics tape, sweetie?"  
  
She glared at him.  
  
"Beachhead is really running you guys ragged," Duke said, watching as Scarlett slowly brought a trembling spoonful of rice to her mouth. "Are you sure you want to do this?"  
  
"We've got to," Scarlett said. "We can't quit now. This is the first time there's ever been women in the competition."  
  
"Yeah, I know that," Duke cut in. "But really, Flint and I competed in it awhile back and I don't remember the training being this intense. God, it makes fighting in combat look like a nice 'break.' We need you guys in one piece - you've got a war to fight, remember? I'm going to tell Beach to take it easy."  
  
"You can't do that, Duke," Jaye protested. Duke gave her a sharp look. "I mean, of course, you CAN do that, but Scarlett and I need to do this. It's the only way. As much as we think Beachhead is overdoing it, it's important to train hard for this. And you KNOW Beachhead gets results. Right, Scarlett? Scarlett?"  
  
They all turned to her. Scarlett's head was propped up in her palm, her eyes slowly closing. Duke nudged her.  
  
"Huh?" she yawned. "Sorry."  
  
"Well, I have to say that I'm all for it," Flint said. "Nothing wrong with training hard. This will be good for you two."  
  
Jaye looked at him. "Good for us? What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"Nothing," Flint said quickly. "I just meant that. Well, it's always good to train hard. I meant you've got my support. Is Scarlett asleep?"  
  
Duke nudged her again.  
  
"I'm awake!" Scarlett shouted, jumping up, startled out of her sleep.  
  
The rest of the Joes in the mess turned round.  
  
"Good job, Scarlett!" Shipwreck said, giving her the thumbs up. "I'm awake too."  
  
Duke pulled her down.  
  
"How long until competition day, anyway?" Flint asked.  
  
"Close to two weeks," Jaye said. "They're holding it in Australia this time round. I'm happy with that. The only mountains we've got to climb are the Blue Mountains and they won't be too treacherous. No crazy heights, thank god."  
  
"But the spiders," Scarlett groaned.  
  
"Oh yeah, Shana's not too thrilled about the Australian collection of creepy crawlies."  
  
"And I recall you saying something about not looking forward to meeting certain inhabitants, Allie," Scarlett smirked at her.  
  
"Yeah, but we're only allowed one phobia according to Hawk, remember?" Jaye said. "I got heights. You got spiders. And Flint's got commitment."  
  
"Hey!" Flint said. He grabbed her knee from underneath the table.  
  
"Two weeks until the big competition," Duke mused. "A week of competition. and them some more time to recuperate. So you guys should be back to normal by, say, next year?"  
  
"If that," Jaye smiled, pushing Flint's hand away as it traveled higher up her leg. She looked at her food without interest. "I don't think I can eat anything. I'm still nauseous from the intense workout."  
  
Flint frowned. "You've got to eat something."  
  
"I know. Later. I need some rest."  
  
"Just have a couple of bites."  
  
"Later," Jaye said wearily. She pushed her chair back and grabbed her tray. "I'll see you guys tomorrow." Duke and Scarlett nodded.  
  
Flint debated going after her, but decided against it. She'll eat when she feels like it, he thought. Then again. ever since Beachhead's training, her appetite has virtually disappeared. The exact opposite should be true.  
  
He covered his growing concern with a casual shrug and dug into the gray meat on his tray. "Far be it from me to force this food on anyone."  
  
*** 


	2. Chapter 2

A WEEK LATER.  
  
"You up?" Scarlett said, standing in the doorway of roommate's bedroom.  
  
Lady Jaye opened one eye slowly and lifted her head from the pillow. "Yep."  
  
"Doesn't look like it."  
  
"It's a gradual process."  
  
Scarlett sat down on the edge of Jaye's bed. "Beachhead wants us in his office in thirty minutes. You want to shower first or should I?"  
  
"You can go," Lady Jaye yawned.  
  
Scarlett reached under the covers and shook Lady Jaye's foot affectionately. "You feeling okay, little sis?"  
  
"Yes," Jaye said, giving her a light kick. "And I'm not the 'little sis' here. You are."  
  
"Pull-ease! Everyone knows I'm the mature one."  
  
Jaye bolted out of bed and put her hands on her hips. "Yeah RIGHT!"  
  
"Got you out of bed," Scarlett winked, getting up.  
  
Jaye pulled a face.  
  
"Point for Shana," Scarlett grinned. "Look, I'm just asking because you don't seem to be eating much and you look pretty drained."  
  
"You're the one who falls asleep at dinner."  
  
"Sheer exhaustion after an intense workout is different than constantly walking around like a zombie."  
  
"You're beginning to sound like Flint," Lady Jaye sighed, making her bed.  
  
Scarlett shrugged and walked to the shower. "Maybe he's right - for once."  
  
Lady Jaye put her hands on her cheeks in mock fright. "Shana agrees with Flint! Careful, folks, the apocalypse is near!"  
  
***  
  
Beachhead studied the maps of Australia on his desk for the fifth time that morning. As team captain, it was his responsibility to know everything about the terrain. What were the rough spots? The best places to rest? Where were they supposed to get water? It was one solid week of relying purely on survival skills. Of course, every G.I. Joe mission relied on survival skills, but this competition wasn't called the Ultimate Challenge for nothing. The course specialists - a team of psychiatrists and army strategists - were privy to all the competitors' classified personnel files. These files were guarded with the utmost secrecy, as was the work itself of the course specialists. They were in charge of not only breaking the soldiers physically, but also mentally. Perfect material for COBRA.  
  
The event was held every four years and considered the secret Olympics of the military. It had been four years since Beachhead had competed.  
  
Four years since he had suffered the ultimate humiliation.  
  
In front of his other team members, namely Roadblock and Gung-Ho, he had broken down and cried. He knew the other two men would never tell anyone, but it still haunted him. The course specialists had found his weakness.  
  
"Not going to get me this time," Beachhead swore to himself.  
  
The memory of him on the ground, rocking back and forth in a fetal position, flashed in his mind. Beachhead gritted his teeth and slammed his fist down on the map.  
  
"Not a fan of Down-Under?" Roadblock said smiling, peering into Beachhead's office. "Sorry, the door was open."  
  
"Yeah, come in," Beachhead said, motioning him inside. "The others will be here in about five minutes."  
  
Roadblock propped himself up against Beachhead's filing cabinet. "Can't believe I'm competing in this challenge again, man. You'd think I'd learnt my lesson."  
  
"There's nothing better than a good challenge, soldier," Beachhead said, standing upright. "It's what the military is all about. You learn from challenge. You achieve greatness with challenge. Challenge is your ally. "  
  
Roadblock nodded slowly and looked at him.  
  
"What you staring at, soldier?"  
  
"Nothing, just-"  
  
"Just what?"  
  
"Forget it, Beach," Roadblock said, shaking his head. "Forget it."  
  
"FORGET WHAT?"  
  
Roadblock folded his arms and met Beachhead's angry glare with his own. "I just wanted you to know that what happened last time, well, it wasn't a big deal. Water under the bridge, man."  
  
Beachhead looked down at the maps. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"Right, Beach. Whatever you say."  
  
"Gung-Ho here, drill sergeant!" the marine said, standing in the doorway.  
  
Beachhead breathed a sigh of relief. Last thing he wanted was a touchy- feely speech from Roadblock. "Come in, Gung-Ho."  
  
"Lady Jaye and Scarlett reporting for duty," Scarlett said, walking in with Lady Jaye in tow.  
  
"Jaye Bird, you look like shit," Beachhead said, studying Lady Jaye up and down.  
  
"Thank you, Beachhead."  
  
"Don't thank me, soldier," he snapped. "Do something about it. Flint told me you haven't been eating properly-"  
  
"Ah, crap!" Lady Jaye burst out. "Sorry, Beach."  
  
"I'd eat what Flint tells you to eat from now on," Beachhead hissed. "He IS a higher rank, in case you've forgotten. Have you forgotten Flint's rank at G.I. Joe, soldier?"  
  
Lady Jaye's eyes narrowed at the insinuation. She knew full well he didn't approve of their relationship. "I haven't forgotten, Beachhead." Her voice was quiet but deadly.  
  
There was a tense silence in the room. The two of them stared at each other, refusing to be the first to blink.  
  
"Anyway," Roadblock said, looking worriedly at Scarlett. She bit her lip in return. "What's going on with the challenge?"  
  
Beachhead peeled his eyes away from Lady Jaye's icy stare. "Well, as you know we have only a couple of days until we fly out to Sydney. I expect you've packed and re-packed and double-checked your backpacks. There should be NO wasted space. Everything should fit together like Lego. You all got my list of supplies?"  
  
The rest of the team nodded.  
  
"Make sure everything is in there. Those are MUST HAVES, soldiers. I can't stress that enough. GOT IT? Good. Now, for the next coupla of days I want you to take it easy. I mean EASIER. Cut the workout in half. I need you all to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Dismissed."  
  
They turned to leave.  
  
"And Lady Jaye," Beachhead said.  
  
She spun on her heels and glared at him.  
  
"Try and eat something," he said, his voice softening slightly. "Your body's had a bit of a shock. You might not have an appetite, but you've got to force it down. Trust me."  
  
She nodded and smiled faintly before following the rest of them out the door.  
  
*** 


	3. Chapter 3

Flint and Duke sat on the couch in the rec room. They had an hour to kill before their meeting with Hawk to discuss new military strategies. Duke held the remote, rhythmically flipping through the channels.  
  
"Hey, Conrad, can I steer now?" Flint asked, eyeing the remote.  
  
"No."  
  
"Then can we stay on one channel?"  
  
Duke gave the remote one final click and then groaned.  
  
"Not this clown," Flint growled, flipping the finger at the television.  
  
On the screen, an intense-looking Hector Ramirez, investigative reporter extraordinaire stood in front of Ayer's Rock: "Hello, I'm Hector Ramirez, coming to you live from Australia. Our hardworking television team - well, mainly me - has uncovered a secret that the military wants kept quiet."  
  
Duke bolted upright. "Don't friggin' tell me-"  
  
On screen, Hector squinted dramatically, paused and continued in a hushed tone: "That's right, folks, a secret military competition designed to test the best of the best. Now, I have been following a team of competitors -" (Hector motioned for his cameraman to film to the left) "The ever- incredible, ever-daring, adrenaline junkies - G.I. Joe."  
  
The camera flashed onto Scarlett stretching next to a jeep.  
  
"You! Woman!" Hector said, running up to her. "You must be a girlfriend of one of these Joes."  
  
"Go away," Scarlett grumbled.  
  
"We have permission from the Australian government-"  
  
"Yes, I know," Scarlett said. "We're not allowed to touch you. But do me a favor and leave me alone. I don't want an interview."  
  
"Tell me," Hector said, ignoring her and leaning in, "what's it like being a Joe's girlfriend? Or, should I say, what's it like being a Joe's comfort girl-"  
  
"COMFORT GIRL?" She grabbed Hector in a headlock and kicked out the cameraman's feet from under him. The camera lens hit the red rock ground.  
  
The screen flashed: "We are experiencing technical difficulties. Please stay tuned."  
  
In the rec room, Flint fell off the couch with laughter.  
  
Duke buried his face in his hands. "Oh god."  
  
"I think Scarlett's already hit the first challenge," Flint said, wiping his eyes.  
  
***  
  
"What's the matter with Beachhead?" Roadblock said, watching the drill sergeant angrily throw his hands up in the air as a course specialist stood speaking to him.  
  
"In general or right now?" Lady Jaye asked, sipping her canteen bottle.  
  
"He looks pissed," Gung-Ho said. "Hope it's not a big deal."  
  
"Guys!" Scarlett yelled, running up to them. "Trouble. Remember that journalist, Jaye? Hector Ramirez? He interviewed you on '20 Questions' with Hawk? Remember when Flint got jealous of Ron Michaels -"  
  
"Zip it, Scarlett!" Lady Jaye said through the corner of her mouth. She smiled smoothly at the confused expression on Gung-Ho's face. "Yes, I remember."  
  
"Anyway, he's here. He KNOWS about the competition."  
  
"How?" Roadblock frowned.  
  
"Your guess is as good as mine," Scarlett sighed. "Maybe there was a leak or something. The Australian government is pretty fierce about protecting the freedom of the press-"  
  
"Even when it could hurt a goddamn anti-terrorist organization?!" Gung-Ho cried.  
  
"Somebody's got to watch the watch-dog, I guess," Lady Jaye shrugged.  
  
"Well, keep your eyes out for Hector, guys," Scarlett said. "The less we see of him the better. We should tell Beach."  
  
"Tell me what?" the drill sergeant said, coming up from behind them. "Better be good news."  
  
"Hector Ramirez, an investigative reporter from the U.S., is here to film the competition."  
  
"MOTHERF*@#%R!"  
  
Scarlett covered her ears jokingly. "My virgin ears!"  
  
Roadblock grinned.  
  
"What is with this bloody challenge?" Beachhead ranted. "It used to be raw, secretive - now we've got a goddamn coffee chain at the starting line. And look!" He held up a plastic bag with the Ultimate Challenge logo on it. "SWAG! Free stuff! T-SHIRTS!" He spat out the last word like a bitter pill.  
  
"Oh cool!" Scarlett said, taking the bag.  
  
"There better be other sizes than 'extra-large'," Jaye said. "I'm sick and tired of them not making any mediums. These t-shirts never shrink in the wash. When are they going to remember that women are in the military?"  
  
"A lot of women in the military NEED the extra-large," Roadblock said.  
  
"SHUT UP, EVERYONE!" Beachhead yelled.  
  
They froze.  
  
"We have another problem," Beachhead said. "There's been a change of rules." He sighed. "Last night, two of the competing teams got into a bit of a brawl. It seems that a couple of men got seriously hurt. They're in the hospital."  
  
"That's terrible," Scarlett said.  
  
"That's not the half of it," Beachhead continued. "Both teams are short a man now. That means one of us has to sit out the challenge. I know, I know. It's not fair. There's no point in arguing, I've already tried. So, anyone itching to back out of the challenge?"  
  
Nobody spoke.  
  
"That means I have to decide," Beachhead said. He studied at Lady Jaye. There were still huge bags under her eyes and she'd lost a considerable amount of weight since training. She's the obvious choice physically, Beachhead thought. Then he saw the fierce determination flashing in her eyes. But this competition isn't just about strength, he thought.  
  
"Beach?"  
  
"What is it, Gung-Ho?"  
  
The marine shifted uncomfortably. "Lord knows I've never been a quitter. But I am the oldest one of the bunch and I have competed in this challenge a couple of times. Always wanted to WIN it, but hell. It's time to let others compete-" He glanced quickly at Lady Jaye and Scarlett.  
  
"Anyway, someone needs to watch Hector Ramirez," Gung-Ho said and then grinned menacingly: "You all know how much I love those crafty journalists."  
  
"You sure, Gung-Ho?" Beachhead asked.  
  
"I'm afraid so."  
  
Beachhead nodded and patted him awkwardly on the shoulders. "Good man. I'll tell the organizers." He walked off.  
  
Lady Jaye and Scarlett turned to Gung-Ho and embraced him tightly.  
  
"Whoa!" the marine exclaimed. "Maybe I should quit more often!"  
  
***  
  
He sat at the end of a long oak table, lazily shaving off a sliver of roast beef with his sharp knife. Bright blood from the rare meat pooled around his mashed potatoes. He always preferred the copper taste of blood to gravy.  
  
The room was lit dimly with candles. Portraits of his ancestors hung on the walls, reminding him of his family's long line of heroes and warriors. Their eyes followed him as he moved - watching him, encouraging him, but most of all, judging him. They had all accomplished great feats: capturing town after town, wiping out enemies and amassing staggering wealth. And what had he accomplished? He couldn't even beat G.I. Joe's bunch of grunts; a rag-tag team of U.S. soldiers with limited intelligence and skill.  
  
Destro sipped his goblet of wine, considering. The new COBRA intelligence officer had just informed him of the Joe's little competition. It didn't involve much detective work - the damn thing was broadcast over the news. Stupid, he thought. Very stupid.  
  
Not that he was complaining. He'd put the information to good use.  
  
"Destro, darling," the Baroness said, sauntering into the room in a tight, black nightdress. "Why are you smiling?"  
  
"Because of you, Baroness," Destro said, leaning back in his antique chair and breathing in her spicy perfume. "You're ravishing."  
  
She laughed throatily. "No, this is a different smile. It's your smile of revenge. Unless you are plotting something horrible against me, I'd guess you have a plan against the Joes."  
  
"You know me too well," Destro sighed, as she sat down on his lap. He traced his finger along the strap of her nightdress.  
  
She grabbed his finger and twisted it back. "What are you planning, darling? Don't make me ask twice."  
  
Destro winced, pulling his finger away. "How would you like to go to Australia?"  
  
She dug his fork into the bloody meat and brought it to his lips, trailing it along his tongue. "Mmmm. You know I love the poisonous snakes over there." 


	4. Chapter 4

"Hey LADIES!"  
  
Lady Jaye and Scarlett turned to look out the jeep's window. The Navy SEALS competing team had pulled their pants down in full moon, wiggling their white butts as the Joes passed by them.  
  
Jaye reached into her Ultimate Challenge swag bag and pulled out a logo'd pencil. She held it like a javelin. "Got a perfect bullseye here, Beachhead. Just say the word."  
  
Beachhead snorted as he drove the jeep. "I wish, Jaye Bird. I wish."  
  
"Lesson number one," Roadblock said, twisting to face the Joe women in the back seat. "Whenever the competing team yells, 'Hey Ladies!' DON'T LOOK."  
  
"Tip noted," Scarlett said.  
  
The jeep pulled up to the official parking lot, guarded by heavily armed men in black.  
  
"These guys look tough," Jaye whistled.  
  
"They aren't the guards people should worry about," Beachhead said, shutting off the engine. "The real dangerous ones are in the bushes."  
  
"Can't see them," Scarlett said, squinting.  
  
"That's the point. You didn't think they'd have some lame rock-concert security guarding this event, did ya?"  
  
"Guess not," Scarlett said, grabbing her backpack and getting out of the truck. She looked up and saw helicopters hovering overhead.  
  
"G.I. Joe team?" An official came marching up to them. "Can I see your passes?"  
  
"Again?" Roadblock said. "We've shown already them four times."  
  
"And you'll show them again."  
  
They pulled out their passes hanging around their necks. The official ran a scanner along them and waited for approval. "Good," he said. "Head to the starting line. There's coffee there if you need it."  
  
"Don't touch the coffee," Beachhead said, waiting for the official to get out of earshot. "It'll dehydrate you."  
  
"Wayne Sneeden!" a big man said, running up to him. He wore an Army t-shirt that barely fit around his huge neck. "Tucker Creedance!" Beachhead said, shaking his hand. "Didn't think they were letting you pansies in the challenge this year!"  
  
The big man roared with laughter. "Watch yer mouth, nancy boy! I could blow you over with one breath."  
  
"With that rank dog-breath, you're right."  
  
Tucker smiled at Lady Jaye and Scarlett. "And who are these lovely ladies?" He looked Scarlett up and down. "Hey? Aren't you that comfort girl Hector Ramirez interviewed?"  
  
Lady Jaye's eyes widened. "What?!"  
  
"Long story," Scarlett groaned.  
  
"You took that weasel-reporter DOWN, girl!" Tucker said, slapping Scarlett on the back, nearly knocking her over. "Good on you!"  
  
"Tucker, this is Lady Jaye and Scarlett," Beachhead said, introducing them. "And you know Roadblock."  
  
"Sure do," Tucker grinned. The two men shook hands. "Back for more, Roadblock?"  
  
"You know I always have a second helping, Tuck," Roadblock winked.  
  
"Well, I should get back to my team," Tucker said. "Just wanted to size up the competition. Looks like our guys have this one in the bag."  
  
"Don't count on it," Beachhead growled.  
  
"COMPETITORS! TO THE STARTING LINE!" a voice crackled through a megaphone.  
  
***  
  
Hector Ramirez drove his sport utility vehicle along the bumpy road, cursing the whole time. You'd think they'd clean up these roads, he thought. Outback or not, a country was only as civilized as its infrastructure.  
  
"Jimmy, where the hell is the starting line?" he said, turning to his cameraman.  
  
"Don't look at me," Jimmy shrugged, biting into an apple. "You're the one who's using their 'spidey-sense' to find the challenge. I wanted us to nab a helicopter."  
  
"A helicopter's not in the budget," Hector snapped. "And the best way to film an event is on the frontlines, down in the trenches, face-to-face with danger."  
  
"Whatever you say, boss."  
  
Hector opened his mouth to continue his rant, but then spotted a figure in the distance. "Hang on. Who's this yahoo?"  
  
"Beats me," Jimmy said.  
  
The man started waving at them frantically. He was dressed in a white tank top with the word ULTIMATE sprawled across the front in big black letters. He also wore green shorts, knee-high socks and a sweatband around his forehead.  
  
Hector slowed the SUV to a stop and rolled down the window. "What's the problem, good sir?"  
  
"Ah, THANK GOD," the man said, throwing his hands to the heavens. "Man, I'm so late! The challenge has already started and I slept through my alarm. Had a wild night. Australian women are nuts, I tell you. NUTS."  
  
"Late?" Hector's eyebrow perked up. "For a challenge?"  
  
The man clamped a hand over his mouth. "Shoot. I'm supposed to keep it all secret."  
  
Hector chuckled. "Not to worry. I already know about the military challenge."  
  
"Really? Wait a second. Are you Hector Ramirez? The famous investigative journalist? Oh MAN! My mom's going to go crazy. My whole family loves you."  
  
Jimmy rolled his eyes.  
  
"Oh, well, don't be intimidated," Hector said, smiling graciously. "I'm just like everyone else. Put my pants on one leg at a time. Make my own coffee in the mornings. Wrestle babies out of the mouths of Great Whites."  
  
The man's eyes widened. "I SAW that shark-snatching-baby news story. Can't believe people accused you of staging it all at the Universal Studios theme park."  
  
Hector's smile vanished. "Where are you going, soldier?"  
  
"Well, I guess I've missed the first lap of the challenge," he sighed. "Best bet is to go to the second rendez-vous point."  
  
"Which is where?"  
  
"It's - oops!" the man clamped a hand over his mouth for the second time. "Can't tell you. We poor, starving soldiers have a code of honor, you know."  
  
"I've never known a code of honor that couldn't be bought," Hector smirked, taking out his wallet. "How about fifty dollars?"  
  
"A hundred."  
  
"Seventy-five."  
  
"Done," Hector said, forking over the money. "Hop in."  
  
"This is so exciting," the man said, getting into the SUV and slapping Jimmy on the shoulder.  
  
"OW!"  
  
"Curb your enthusiasm, soldier," Hector snapped. "Where to?"  
  
"Bondi Beach," Gung-Ho said, smiling. "That's where the action is."  
  
*** 


	5. Chapter 5

Author's note: hope no one takes offense to my little mention of fanfic websites - just having a little fun (at my expense mostly).  
  
***  
  
"General, sir," Mainframe said, waving Hawk over to the console.  
  
"What is it, Mainframe?" The general said, walking over. He was anxious to put his feet up and relax after an intense day of discussing combat strategies. Any meetings with his second and third command were explosive. The only thing Duke and Flint agreed on was that the other man was wrong. It had left Hawk with a throbbing headache, growing stronger by the minute.  
  
"I'm picking up some weird signals from a cargo plane heading to Australia," Mainframe said.  
  
"What kind of signals?"  
  
"The same frequency that COBRA uses. Nothing too concrete yet. I'm still trying to unscramble them, but how much do you want to bet the snakes are adding a late entry in the competition?"  
  
The general sighed. "I'm not a gambling man, but I'd put money on this one." He turned to the soldier sitting at the other console. "Dialtone!"  
  
"Yes sir!"  
  
"Go get Flint and Duke."  
  
Dialtone scurried off.  
  
Hawk leaned in closer to the screen. "What type of cargo plane are they flying?"  
  
Mainframe enhanced the satellite image and a clear picture appeared on the screen. "It looks like a mail courier."  
  
"Probably the most heavily-armed mail courier plane in history," Hawk said.  
  
"Duke here, general."  
  
"Flint here."  
  
Hawk turned to his second and third in command. "We have a problem."  
  
They waited for him to continue.  
  
"Looks like COBRA found out about the Ultimate Challenge," Hawk said.  
  
"Bloody hell," Duke swore under his breath.  
  
"I think it's best I go check it out," Flint said. "I'll go assemble a team."  
  
"You?" Duke said. "I'm going."  
  
Flint glared at Duke then turned to Hawk. "With all due respect to Duke, I believe my abilities are best suited for this type of mission."  
  
"Yeah, and what special abilities are those, Flint?" Duke sneered.  
  
"ENOUGH YOU TWO!" the general barked. "I've listened to you guys bicker like a bunch of old ladies all afternoon. I will NOT have my top officers butting heads every single time they're together. Goddamn it, men!"  
  
They stood stone-faced, silent.  
  
Hawk crossed his arms. "I understand you both have, shall we say a 'special' interest in the challenge? Two certain lady soldiers? Don't play stupid, boys. Just because I'm older, doesn't mean that I'm blind." He smirked, watching them squirm. "In this mission you two will learn to work together. As a team. It's about time."  
  
Their mouths dropped.  
  
"Together, sir?" Duke said weakly.  
  
Flint took a step forward. "Sir, I don't-"  
  
"STAND DOWN WARRANT OFFICER." Hawk glared at Flint and then at Duke. "Are you questioning my orders, men?"  
  
"No sir!"  
  
"Good, I didn't think so," Hawk smiled. "Now go assemble a team you mutually agree on. Flint, you know Duke is in charge so don't bust his balls." Duke could barely suppress a grin. The general looked at him. "And Duke-"  
  
"Yes sir?"  
  
"Don't be a prick."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
"Permission to speak freely?" Flint asked, hesitating slightly.  
  
"Proceed with caution, Flint," Hawk said.  
  
"If Duke and I are off on a mission, and Beachhead's gone too, who's going to-"  
  
"Lead the troops?" Hawk said. "I'm assuming, of course, you believe I'm fully capable, Warrant Officer."  
  
"Of course, sir."  
  
"Good," the general said. "I was thinking I might call upon our old friend, Sergeant Slaughter."  
  
Dialtone mumbled something.  
  
"What was that Dialtone?" Hawk said, raising an eyebrow. He turned to face the smaller man at the console.  
  
"Nothing, sir."  
  
"I ask again, 'What was that Dialtone?'"  
  
Dialtone looked at Mainframe and swallowed loudly. Mainframe nodded for him to continue. "I called Sergeant Slaughter.. Umm. Sabretooth from X-Men, sir."  
  
"Hmm. And what would a Sabretooth from X-Men, be?"  
  
"Sir," Mainframe jumped in. "Dialtone's not in his right mind. He's been spending a lot of time at the fanfic websites and-"  
  
"What's a 'fanfic,' son?"  
  
"It's a place where people write in stories about their favorite characters, like, cartoons and heroes and stuff," Dialtone said excitedly.  
  
Hawk paused, considering. "Do they have Roy Rogers?"  
  
Dialtone and Mainframe looked confusedly at each other.  
  
"Sir? What's a Roy Rogers?" Dialtone asked.  
  
Flint and Duke started coughing, trying to suppress laughter.  
  
"Never mind, boys, never mind," the general sighed. "It's just my old age showing through. This Sabretooth character - is he good or bad?"  
  
"Bad, sir," Mainframe explained. "He's a half-man, half-tiger-"  
  
Dialtone jumped up. "HEY, you're the one who referred to Sergeant Slaughter as Beachhead's evil twin!"  
  
The room went silent.  
  
Hawk frowned, studying the two men at the console. Then he looked at Duke and Flint, who were waiting for his reaction. His eyes went back to Dialtone and Mainframe.  
  
Suddenly, the general roared with laughter.  
  
"Beachhead's EVIL TWIN?" Hawk said, his eyes twinkling. "Jesus, that's GOOD!"  
  
Dialtone breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"I'm glad you have such a good sense of humor, sir," Mainframe said smiling.  
  
"Oh, I do, I do," Hawk said, still chuckling as he walked out of the room. "And I'm sure Sergeant Slaughter will find this equally funny when I tell him."  
  
***  
  
"WE ARE NOW CRUISING AT AN ALTITUDE OF 32,000 FEET. CURRENT TEMPERATURE IN AUSTRALIA IS 100 DEGREES FARENHEIT."  
  
"Good thing I packed my thong," the Baroness commented, casually sipping her champagne. "I'm very particular about my tan lines."  
  
Destro gave her a sly smile.  
  
"PLEASE SIT BACK AND ENJOY THE INFLIGHT MOVIE, HOME ALONE 2."  
  
"What?" Destro yelled.  
  
"JUST KIDDING, SIR. ENJOY THE INFLIGHT MOVIE, HANNIBAL."  
  
"We'll have to shoot the pilot upon landing," the Baroness said, stroking the pistol at her side.  
  
"Agreed," Destro said. "There's no room for jokers on this mail courier plane."  
  
"Gives new meaning to the term 'going postal,' doesn't it, darling?"  
  
He chuckled softly.  
  
"Now, tell me about your plans," she said, stretching her legs and putting her heels on the seat in front of her.  
  
"Baroness, these seats are lambskin leather. You'll scuff them with your boots."  
  
"Are you telling me what to do?" she asked, raking her heels down the seat, leaving long black marks.  
  
"Certainly not," Destro sighed.  
  
"That's better. Now, one last time, tell me about your plans."  
  
"As you know, the Joes are competing in this pathetic Ultimate Challenge. From what I gathered from our 'intelligence' - and I use the term loosely - there are five competitors. That idiot Beachhead, his equally moronic teammates Roadblock and Gung-Ho, Scarlett the hot-head and Lady Jaye the -"  
  
"The cousin," the Baroness finished for him.  
  
"She's a distant cousin," Destro frowned. "As far as I'm concerned, she's been disinherited."  
  
"Disinherited? Really? I thought YOU were disinherited from the bloodline."  
  
Destro grabbed the Baroness' wrists angrily. "What have I told you about that?"  
  
"Mind the diamond Cartier watch," she said, swinging her boot round and stopping an inch from his crotch. She lowered her foot slowly, resting it gently on her target. "I'd hate to damage the family jewels."  
  
Destro swallowed and let go. "What I'm proposing is that we mess with the competition. Have a bit of fun."  
  
"I like fun," the Baroness smiled, straddling him.  
  
"Well, then, think of this like a holiday at a resort."  
  
"Oh yes, darling," she said and whispered in his ear: "A virtual Club Med."  
  
He reached round and undid the zipper of her catsuit. "Shall we join the Mile-High Club, my wild orchid?"  
  
She nipped his lower lip. "I'm already a frequent flyer."  
  
***  
  
Beachhead scanned the competitors at the starting line, taking note of each team's strongest men. It appeared the G.I. Joe team was the only one with women. It didn't matter. These guys were big, but were they fast? Smart? The answer would be found at the finish line. Not all of them would make it - some would be seriously injured, others would collapse out of exhaustion and dehydration.  
  
He turned to the rest of his team. Roadblock stood, his eyes staring straight ahead, eagerly waiting for the green light. Scarlett rubbed her legs, warming her muscles, also keeping an eye out for the green light. Lady Jaye met his stare.  
  
"I'm good," she mouthed.  
  
He nodded at her.  
  
"COMPETITORS READY?"  
  
They crouched, geared up for action.  
  
The red light at the starting line flashed three times and then blinked to green.  
  
The teams sprinted in various directions; each of them assigned a different route. All would face the same obstacles, but they were staggered so that overcrowding wasn't a factor. There was a time limit to accomplish each leg of the challenge - if a team went over the time limit they were penalized. Beachhead knew how much these penalties counted in the end. Challenges were lost over a matter of minutes.  
  
"Go, go, go!" Beachhead shouted, egging his teammates on. They ran in sync, neither one lagging after years of his early morning drills.  
  
Hours passed and they were still jogging, the pace slowing slightly under the hot Australian sun.  
  
"Alright, stop here!" Beachhead ordered, glancing at his watch. He barely broke a sweat. "Drink up. Good job. We're making great time."  
  
Scarlett and Lady Jaye bent over catching their breath. Roadblock held his sides, sucking in wind.  
  
"Where's the first obstacle?" Scarlett said, unscrewing her canteen bottle and sipping the warm water.  
  
"I don't know," Beachhead said truthfully. "All I know is that they come out of the blue. Without warning. Keep your eyes peeled, Joes." He shivered slightly, remembering the last challenge. White-hot flames flashed in his mind. Piercing screams, so twisted with pain they barely sounded human, echoed in his ears. Screams belonging to children. His hands balled into fists instinctively. Leave me in peace, he prayed. Let me compete like a soldier.  
  
Lady Jaye coughed up some of her water.  
  
"Problem, Jaye Bird?"  
  
"No, Beach," she said, stifling another cough. "Nothing's wrong."  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"I said nothing's wrong."  
  
"Okay, I believe you," Beachhead said. "What about you, Roadblock?"  
  
"Peachy."  
  
Lady Jaye turned away from the group and coughed into her hand silently. She tasted something metallic in her mouth and looked at her glove. There were specs of blood on it. Damn, she thought. She rubbed her hand discreetly along the ground, making sure no one was looking.  
  
"Okay, Jaye?" Scarlett asked quietly, coming up from behind her.  
  
She wiped her mouth and turned round. "Peachy," Lady Jaye smiled.  
  
*** 


	6. Chapter 6

"Did you see that?" Scarlett said, straining her eyes in the darkness. She shook Lady Jaye's shoulder to wake her.  
  
"Is it my turn for nightwatch already?" Lady Jaye yawned. Spotting Scarlett's worried expression Jaye instantly snapped alert. Her hand groped for her javelins and then she remembered the only weapons allowed in the challenge were whatever competitors could build.  
  
Scarlett put a finger to her lips and then pointed into the obscurity.  
  
Green, incandescent eyes glinted back at them. Another pair came into view.  
  
"What are they?" Jaye whispered.  
  
"I don't have a clue. Wild dogs?"  
  
"No, a dingo's eyes don't glow like that," Lady Jaye said. "No creature's eyes glow like that." She paused. "Unless they're at the bottom of the ocean."  
  
"Whatever they are, they're watching us."  
  
Lady Jaye moved slowly towards Beachhead, who lay on the ground beside her. She reached for his foot. "I'm awake, Jaye Bird, don't bother," he said quietly. "I've got my eye on them. Roadblock -" Beachhead tapped his teammate's shoulder.  
  
"What is it, chief?"  
  
"Trouble at twelve o'clock."  
  
Roadblock looked up. "What the hell are those things?"  
  
"They're part of the fun," Beachhead said grimly. "Prepare yourself, ladies."  
  
Lady Jaye and Scarlett crouched down, ready to spring.  
  
Then the glowing eyes disappeared.  
  
"Where'd they go?" Scarlett said, looking around. "They just -"  
  
She was suddenly knocked to her stomach with a crushing blow; the air hissed out of her lungs. Scarlett gasped, desperately trying to breath, her mouth open wide. Two powerful hands twisted her onto her back and she stared in shock at her attacker. It was half-human, standing upright on two feet with a body covered in heavy fur. But it was the face that made Scarlett go rigid with fear: a combination of man and beast with scars crisscrossing along its jaw and forehead. Its glowing green eyes studied her.  
  
"SCARLETT!" Lady Jaye shouted in horror. She flung herself onto the creature's back only to be picked off by his companion, a female version but just as strong. Her hands gripped Jaye's throat tightly, forcing her to her knees.  
  
"Did we have these things last time, Beach?" Roadblock said.  
  
"Nope," Beachhead said, sizing up the situation. "But we had those soldiers from the Foreign Legion."  
  
"Damn they were ugly."  
  
"That's great, guys!" Scarlett shouted, breathing in sharply as the creature licked her neck. "Do you mind helping us out now?"  
  
Lady Jaye's eyes rolled back into her head and her body went limp.  
  
"Hey!" Beachhead yelled. "Go easy on her! This is still just a challenge!"  
  
"Not anymore," said the male creature.  
  
The female threw Lady Jaye on the ground in disgust. "Might be a game for you," the female creature said. "But it's life and death for us. Only fair to make it life and death for you."  
  
"What the hell you talking about?" Beachhead said.  
  
"You expect us to be your pets? Your entertainment?" The male creature brought up a fist and pummeled Scarlett in the face. Blood gushed out of her nose and mouth.  
  
"Jesus!" Roadblock shouted, throwing himself on the beast. It fell back and scampered into the bushes.  
  
The female followed, snarling.  
  
"Scarlett?" Roadblock said, looking helplessly at her bloodied face.  
  
"Ow."  
  
"We'll get help soon."  
  
She tried to smile, but winced in pain. "How's Jaye?"  
  
"Okay, Shana," a weak voice said.  
  
"Thanks for coming to my rescue, doll."  
  
"Anytime, beautiful," Lady Jaye smiled.  
  
Beachhead helped Lady Jaye to her feet. She swayed slightly and leaned on his shoulders for support. He wrapped his arm round her waist, steadying her, his breath catching as his cheek brushed along hers. She looked up gratefully, meeting his eyes, and then quickly backed away.  
  
"This isn't right," Beachhead said, shaking his head. "It's not supposed to be like this. Something's wrong."  
  
"Whatever," Scarlett groaned, touching her face gingerly. "Next time it's your turn to play."  
  
"Shit, Scarlett, you need a medic," Beachhead said, crouching down next to her. He grabbed a transmitter from his backpack and radioed for assistance.  
  
"They'll be here soon, Scarlett. Hang on."  
  
***  
  
"THIS IS G.I. JOE TEAM LEADER REQUESTING IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ASSISTANCE. I REPEAT: G.I. JOE TEAM LEADER REQUESTING IMMEDIATE MEDICAL ASSISTANCE. SOLDIER INJURED - COMPETITOR NO. 240, SHANA O'HARA. CODENAME: SCARLETT."  
  
Duke replayed the message for the fifth time, trying to find something he'd missed, some clue to let them know the team's whereabouts. "Are you sure that's all you got?" he snapped, grabbing the course official by the shirt.  
  
"Yes, sir, I've told you five times," the official said, trying to remove Duke's hands. "The frequency jammed after that. We're not getting signals from the other teams either. Somebody's screwing with the transmission waves."  
  
"COBRA," Flint growled.  
  
Duke let go of the official in disgust. "I thought these frequencies were impossible to mess with. Isn't that your guys' job?"  
  
"Apparently not," Flint muttered under his breath.  
  
"Go," Duke said to the course official. "Try and find out something useful."  
  
The course official glared at him before turning away.  
  
"What are you thinking, Duke?" Flint asked.  
  
Keep it together, Duke thought. She's okay. Everything's fine. "Just give me a moment, Flint."  
  
Flint nodded and turned to the rest of the team. "Alright soldiers! Get your supplies ready. Carry as much water as you can. Go! Get busy!"  
  
The team ran off.  
  
Flint turned to Duke and cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I know it's hard, Conrad."  
  
"I'm okay, Dash. I know nothing would give you more pleasure than to see me crack."  
  
"Come on, Conrad," Flint sighed. "Give me a little credit. Allie's out there also."  
  
"You're comparing apples to oranges, pal," Duke said, turning to some maps of the course.  
  
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Flint growled. "You telling me Allie's not as good a woman as Shana?"  
  
"Of course not, you idiot," Duke said, seething with misplaced anger. "I'm telling you that your 'relationship' isn't the same as mine."  
  
"Don't go psychiatrist on me, golden boy. You don't know the half of it."  
  
"Oh?" Duke said, going in for the kill. "Ask me how many times Shana and I have found Lady Jaye in her room crying? Go ahead. Ask."  
  
Flint took a step back. "Allie never cries..."  
  
"Moron," Duke muttered, walking off. "I'm going to ready the troops."  
  
***  
  
Hector Ramirez peeled his sweaty shirt off his body and pulled out his compact mirror. He groaned as he studied his reflection. The hairspray in his hair was dripping down his forehead, stinging his eyes and tickling his nose. The foundation on his face - applied liberally with a spatula - was beginning to slide down his neck and onto his collar.  
  
Bondi Beach was packed full of people, strolling casually in the sun, throwing the frisbee and splashing in the waves.  
  
"I don't get it," Jimmy said, setting up his camera. "From what direction are the competitors coming from?"  
  
"Ever seen those NAVY Seals documentaries?" Gung-Ho said.  
  
Jimmy shook his head.  
  
"Well, what they do is come up from the waves, in full scuba gear, machine guns, black face paint," Gung-Ho said. "It's all about the element of surprise."  
  
"No shit," Jimmy whistled.  
  
"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD!" Hector yelled, stamping his foot on the ground.  
  
"What is it boss?" Jimmy asked.  
  
Hector waved at the beach in disgust. "Can't these women put some tops on? How am I supposed to film for an American television station - LIVE - when naked girls are strutting past? Lord, TAKE ME NOW."  
  
Gung-Ho jumped up, squinting to get a better view. Jimmy grabbed the camera and peered through the lens.  
  
"Here," Jimmy said, handing the camera over to Gung-Ho. "You can zoom in with this."  
  
"Thanks, man."  
  
Hector swore and marched to the back of the SUV, throwing open the back door. He slammed a suitcase onto the ground, flipped it open and grabbed two sweaters.  
  
"Hey! You girls!" he said, running up to two women sunbathing topless. "Put these sweaters on! Quickly!"  
  
"Your boss is a little messed up," Gung-Ho said to Jimmy as they watched Hector chase the bare-breasted women along the beach.  
  
"A little? The guy's full-on cracked."  
  
"GUNG-HO? FLINT HERE. DO YOU READ ME? OVER."  
  
Gung-Ho reached into this pocket and pulled out a radio receiver: "I'M ON BONDI BEACH, FLINT. WHERE YOU AT? OVER."  
  
"ENJOYING THE SITES, EH GUNG-HO? I'M AT CHALLENGE HEADQUARTERS. THEY TOLD ME YOU VOLUNTEERED TO SIT THIS ONE OUT. SMART MOVE. WE NEED YOU BACK HERE ASAP. I'LL EXPLAIN LATER. OVER."  
  
"I'M ON MY WAY. OVER."  
  
Gung-Ho turned to Jimmy. "Sorry, pal, I'd take you but it's top-secret."  
  
"Hey, I get paid either way." Jimmy smiled and watched Hector sprint along the beach, waving his arms frantically at naked women. "This beats an army competition any day."  
  
*** 


	7. Chapter 7

***  
  
Flint stood alone outside the challenge's headquarters tent, his expression revealing nothing except grim determination. A dry heat crackled in the air and the dust swirled in a blast of warm wind. It covered his body, sticking to the dampness of his uniform. Sweat trickled down his brow and stung his eyes. It'll get hotter, Flint thought, glancing at his watch. Still morning.  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Duke's team load supplies in the jeeps, remembering the fight from the night before. Hawk's little mission of teamwork had backfired and the damage seemed irrecoverable. A line had been crossed, only slightly, but enough to widen the rift to a type of estrangement - one that went beyond testosterone. It was personal now.  
  
Deep down, Flint knew his anger towards Duke was partly misplaced. Guilt wormed its way into his mind. His fears had been confirmed: all was not well with Lady Jaye. It didn't take a rocket-scientist to figure that one out. Over the last few months, he had put the brakes on the relationship in not-so-subtle ways: wiggling his way out of time together, teasing without tact, not calling... Withdrawing. It was the pattern he had mastered after years of casual dating: hit the panic button and back away slowly. Before they knew it, he was gone.  
  
This time, it wasn't so simple. The more he tried to hurt her, make her surrender and give up, the more Flint wanted to erase what he had done.  
  
What good am I to her anyway? Flint thought, anger suddenly expanding in his chest. We want - no need - something completely different. There's no room for compromise.  
  
He spotted Gung-Ho jogging towards him and quickly blocked out Lady Jaye's face.  
  
"Flint, my man, come here to cheer for the Joe Team?" Gung-Ho said, smiling warmly at the warrant officer. His smile quickly turned into a frown when he saw the look in Flint's dark eyes. They glinted with anger and something else Gung-Ho couldn't place. "Alright, what's going on?"  
  
"COBRA crawled out from under its rock," Flint said. "We've lost contact with all the teams. Last thing that came through was a distress call. Scarlett's hurt."  
  
Gung-Ho exhaled loudly. "Don't know how bad?"  
  
Flint shook his head.  
  
"And we don't know anything about-"  
  
"I've TOLD you all I know," Flint snapped. He looked away. "Sorry, Gung-Ho. I'm just a little 'annoyed.'"  
  
"Understood."  
  
"There's two teams outside," Flint said. "I'm leading one, Duke's leading the-"  
  
"Duke's here also?"  
  
Flint nodded. "Hawk's idea, not ours. You're going with him so grab a pack and head out."  
  
"Will do." Gung-Ho went to leave.  
  
"Gung-Ho?"  
  
"Yes, Flint?"  
  
Flint paused, choosing his words carefully. "Did Lady Jaye seem okay to you?"  
  
"Okay?"  
  
"I mean - was she performing up to her abilities?"  
  
"Sure," Gung-Ho shrugged. "A little drained, I guess. All that training and stuff. Anything wrong, Flint?"  
  
Flint opened his mouth to speak and then closed it. "It's nothing." He shook his head, as if snapping out of a daydream, and said with more certainty: "It's nothing."  
  
***  
  
"How's the face, Scarlett?" Beachhead asked, surveying their surroundings from on top of a rock.  
  
He watched her struggle to form words. "No, wait, don't tell me."  
  
Lady Jaye put a fresh piece of gauze on her teammate's mouth and nose, catching the blood as it dribbled down her chin. "Lil' sis," Jaye said, affectionately stroking Scarlett's hair.  
  
Scarlett made a fist.  
  
"I know, I know, Shana. I'm the lil' sis."  
  
"You think her nose is broken?" Roadblock asked.  
  
Scarlett nodded vehemently. She tried to ignore the pain as her face throbbed in the heat. Her head started to hurt also: dehydration. She could barely swallow her water. All she wanted to do was pass out.  
  
"Thank god!" Roadblock suddenly exclaimed, pointing off into the distance. A white van with a red cross sped towards them. "Medics!"  
  
Scarlett sighed inwardly and sat down on the ground, trying to control the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm her.  
  
The van braked sharply in front of them.  
  
"Anyone call in for a medic?" a man said, jumping out.  
  
"Hell yeah!" Beachhead said. "What took you so long?"  
  
"We're having problems across the board," the man said apologetically. "The medical team is spread pretty thin. Some of the 'obstacles' are a little hard this year."  
  
"I'll say," Roadblock grumbled. "We just got attacked by two Chewbaccas."  
  
The medic look puzzled, but then quickly covered it with a shrug. "Yeah, it's supposed to be a tough competition. First things first, let's get this soldier out of here." He pulled out a stretcher from the van. "Help me strap her in."  
  
Scarlett lay herself down on the stretcher and let them tie her down. It felt as comfortable as any five-star hotel's bed.  
  
"You guys throwing in the towel or are you still competing? An injury counts as a penalty, but you've still got a chance."  
  
The other Joes looked at Scarlett. "Don't you dare stop," she croaked.  
  
"Are you sure, Shana?" Lady Jaye said, touching her arm. "Wait. Don't talk. You're always sure."  
  
They lifted her into the back of the van.  
  
"Don't worry about her," the medic smiled. "She's in good hands now."  
  
"She better be," Beachhead growled.  
  
The man jumped into the front seat and peered out the window. "Now, if you guys have any problems, don't be afraid to radio us. That's what those transmitters are for."  
  
He hit the gas and sped off.  
  
Lady Jaye stood studying the van as it drove away.  
  
"Anything wrong, Jaye?" Roadblock said, putting his hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Did you hear Scarlett yell something from the back?"  
  
"Nope."  
  
"Huh. Could've sworn I heard something."  
  
*** 


	8. Chapter 8

"Nasty," Destro said, running his hand along her face. He picked at the dry blood on her chin. "Definitely nasty."  
  
Scarlett strained against the straps that bound her.  
  
"Don't try and get up. You're in tight."  
  
She fell back, exhausted.  
  
"Well, Scarlett, how would you like something for the pain?" Destro studied her. She remained silent. "Not much of a talker, are you? My experience tells me otherwise. Doesn't matter, really. We'll get all we need out of you in due time. What I was thinking is that you could be bait. What do you think? You think Duke will come for you?"  
  
Her eyes widened.  
  
Destro chuckled. "Didn't think I knew about your little fling, did you? I'm not as stupid as you look, darling. It's kind of a cliché, isn't it? A damsel in distress? Lord knows I fully support the feminist movement. Ideally, I would like to have Duke here, but things seemed to have worked out this way instead. Shame, really. You think we could have a role reversal, just once."  
  
"Now, the Baroness. I never have to rescue her. Not that I ever would, mind you." Destro ran his fingers down her arm. "You know, there's something about a redhead - bound."  
  
***  
  
"Okay, from what we've gathered, the team went down in the southern regions," Duke said, standing in front of his team.  
  
Snake Eyes stepped forward.  
  
"I know, Snakes," Duke said, dismissing him with a wave. "Nothing's for sure. This is what came through from intelligence. That's all we got."  
  
"I'm sensing trouble, sir," Spirit said.  
  
"In what way?"  
  
Spirit shook his head. "Not sure yet."  
  
Snake Eyes looked at him; he was sensing the same thing. His thoughts echoed flashes of red but there was no way of putting his feelings into words. Scarlett. Her face sprung into his mind, screaming for help. Scarlett. The woman who haunted him in his dreams. "Spill it, Spirit," Duke said.  
  
"Sir, it's nothing."  
  
Duke shook his head, frustrated. Something's wrong, he thought. Usually, he'd dismiss Spirit telepathic powers, dismissing them as nonsense. But now, with Scarlett missing, he'd take anything. A feeling of hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him. He didn't like feeling so vulnerable, so pathetic. This has got to stop, he thought. I can't let this go on, Shana. It's over.  
  
"I don't care what's definite or not. Tell me - what's going on in your head, Spirit?"  
  
"I see red. I see danger."  
  
Duke cleared his throat. "Red?"  
  
Spirit nodded. "She's not with the rest of the group."  
  
Duke studied his men. "Alone?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"There's three others. We go for them."  
  
Dusty stepped forward. "What about Scar-"  
  
"Three men are missing," Duke said, turning away. He repeated: "We go for them."  
  
***  
  
"How you doing, Jaye?"  
  
"Okay," she smiled. "I'm fine."  
  
Beachhead settled in beside her. "You sure?"  
  
"Yep."  
  
They sat in a companionable silence while Roadblock scouted out the area. Lady Jaye sat on dead wood, Beachhead on her left. She studied Beach. His profile reminded her of Flint, the set jaw, the furrowed brow. But there was a sadness that she saw in Beachhead that she'd never seen in her partner. His eyes almost seemed haunted, like something was weighing him down. Her hand instinctively shot out to touch his arm to comfort him.  
  
"What are you doing?" Beachhead frowned. "Nothing," Lady Jaye said, quickly withdrawing. "I just thought -"  
  
"Well, the area seems clears," Roadblock said, jogging up to them. "Can't see any monstas'."  
  
"Good," Beachhead said. "Last thing we need is another episode like yesterday. You know, Jaye in a stretcher."  
  
It was Lady Jaye's turn to frown. "Why would it be me in a stretcher? What about you guys?"  
  
Beachhead grinned. "Ladies first."  
  
She rolled her eyes.  
  
"I say we stay put then," Beachhead said, sitting down. "This is as good as a spot as any."  
  
"I'll take first watch," Roadblock offered, walking off. "You two need the rest."  
  
Lady Jaye turned to Beachhead, about to say something. He put his hand up. "Don't bother."  
  
"Don't bother what?"  
  
"Talking," he said, lying down. "Just go to sleep."  
  
Before she could answer, a shriek in the distance rang out.  
  
"Roadblock," Lady Jaye whispered.  
  
Her mouth turned dry. 


	9. Chapter 9

Author's note: have to admit, the tension b/w LJ and Beachhead was influenced by Slayne's "A Good Soldier." Just giving credit where credit's due.  
  
Lady Jaye stood in the darkness, her pulse pounding in her ears. Her stance rigid, she waited for the next strike. One minute passed, then another. "Roadblock?" she whispered.  
  
"Shhh." Beachhead hissed beside her. He pushed her behind him and moved into the bushes. "Stay here."  
  
"No way. I'm coming."  
  
"I'm in charge."  
  
"Sorry, sir. I'm coming."  
  
"Stay," he said, more forcefully.  
  
He grabbed the team's only flashlight and pushed forward, careful not to make a sound, feeling his way through the bushes. There was nothing except the sound of the nocturnal; the scuttle of some creatures that fed by night. He crouched down, scanning the flashlight from left to right. The ground showed specs of blood and the outline of something being dragged. Roadblock, he thought grimly.  
  
He moved back to the camp and turned the flashlight back to Lady Jaye. Her eyes glistened like one of the night creatures.  
  
"What happened?" she asked. "Where's Roadblock?"  
  
"He's gone. They got him."  
  
She looked away. "Feels like the Blair Witch Project."  
  
"We've got to get out of here," Beachhead said, grabbing his backpack. "Get your stuff. Stay on guard."  
  
"Beach?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Is this normal?" Lady Jaye asked. "Is this what happened last time?"  
  
He hesitated.  
  
"Beach? Is this normal?"  
  
"Who knows?" Beachhead shrugged. "Last competition was bad. In a different way, though. Get your stuff."  
  
She grabbed her backpack and canteen bottle. "Tell me what happened."  
  
"Another time."  
  
She grabbed his arm. "Tell me now."  
  
"I said another time," Beachhead said. He shook off her grasp and pushed her forward, a bit too forcefully and she stumbled onto the ground. "Sorry, Jaye. I didn't - just get going." He offered his hand to help her up, instantly hating himself for his roughness. You don't understand, Beachhead thought. I'm trying to. God, what are you trying to do, Wayne?  
  
She studied his hand and looked at him, unblinking. "I can get up myself, sir."  
  
"Suit yourself," Beachhead said, his tone coming out more harshly than intended.  
  
Lady Jaye stood up, swaying slightly. He reached out to brace her. "What's going on with you, Corporal?" he asked, steadying her.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Doesn't seem like nothing," he frowned.  
  
"Well, then. We both have our secrets."  
  
He paused before nodding slowly. "Alright. Let's get going."  
  
***  
  
Scarlett tried to open her eyes, but they were swollen shut. She needed water. Badly. Her tongue traced her lips for moisture but found they were cracked and sore. She smelt dampness and decay all around her.  
  
Where am I?  
  
Her mind started to work furiously. Destro had done a number on her that night, trying everything in his power to get her to reveal military secrets. At first, it was her bravery that can't her mouth shut; after that, a delirium of pain set in and she hoped - no prayed - nothing had come out. There was a point where she heard screaming, like something that came from a wounded animal, and then she realized it was her own voice making those sounds. Her body shuddered at the memory, but it was memories that saved her in the end. At the pinnacle of her pain, she felt her thoughts drift to a time of happiness.  
  
Scarlett's mind brought her back to a week before the competition. She and Duke were spending some precious time alone together in her quarters. Lady Jaye was in a meeting with Hawk all night, briefing on the latest intelligence.  
  
"You know what, Red?" Duke said, sitting on her bed.  
  
"What?"  
  
"I'm happy."  
  
She knew what he meant, but decided to feign ignorance. "Happy about what?" Scarlett asked, sitting down next to him.  
  
Duke chuckled softly. "You know what I'm talking about."  
  
"I don't usually ask redundant questions," she said.  
  
"You are now." Duke placed his hand behind her neck and pulled her in for a kiss.  
  
"Tell me, why are you happy?" she murmured against his lips.  
  
"You make me happy," he said, stroking her cheek. "You make me very happy." Duke backed away, looking into her eyes. "I think I'm in love." His words shocked him, but once they were said, he couldn't take them back.  
  
Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "You THINK you're in love? Get back to me when you're sure."  
  
He pushed her back onto the bed, laughing. "Okay, okay. I'm sure. I'm in love. What about you?"  
  
"Hmmm. I 'think' so."  
  
"Good lord, woman!" Duke said, still laughing. "You're going to be the death of me."  
  
Now, in the darkness, Scarlett clung to that memory. It covered her like a blanket, soothing away some of the pain. Her joints ached. Her whole body ached, but she knew he was out there.  
  
You're coming, she thought. I know you are.  
  
***  
  
"Alright Shipwreck, what's the word?"  
  
"Spirit's thinking they've got Scar."  
  
"What about the others?"  
  
"No word on Lady Jaye."  
  
Flint looked at him. "I didn't ask about her specifically."  
  
"I'm just telling you," Shipwreck shrugged. "There's no word on Roadblock and Beachhead either. I say we just get out there."  
  
"Duke's moving to the South," Flint said. "We'll move northeast. Let's get going. Tell the men."  
  
"Aye, aye, sir."  
  
"Flint, sir!" Alpine ran into the tent.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"They've found a body."  
  
The warrant officer stood silent for a moment before composing himself. "Who is it?"  
  
"Unidentifiable, Flint. We're having to go by dental records, sir. He was mauled pretty badly."  
  
"Any idea what happened?"  
  
Alpine shook his head. "Not a clue. There's only one animal that could've done that, sir. And that's a polar bear. Ain't much of those around here."  
  
"We're going out there," Flint said. "NOW." 


	10. Chapter 10

Author's note: A big thank to everyone who reviewed the work. You're a very encouraging group.  
  
***  
  
Bright orange stung her tired eyes and she turned her head away from the glare. Lady Jaye turned back to the sun, shaking off weariness and propping herself up an elbow. The orange ball disappeared behind a dark figure.  
  
"Sleep well?" Beachhead asked.  
  
"Like a princess," she smiled, trying to smooth out her wild hair. "Best 20 minutes of sleep I've ever had."  
  
"You going to get up?"  
  
"Is that a question or a statement?"  
  
He grinned. "Statement."  
  
She stood up and stretched, reaching her hands up to the sky and leaning back. Then she bent forward, curling her back the opposite way. "Can't believe I gave up Broadway for this," Lady Jaye sighed.  
  
"Broadway," Beachhead repeated, shivering at the thought.  
  
"Yes, Broadway," she said. "What's wrong with that?"  
  
"Nothing, I guess. If you like that stuff - singing and skipping and whatever."  
  
"I never skipped," Lady Jaye said.  
  
"I'm talking about the guys."  
  
She rolled her eyes, but remained silent.  
  
"So, Corporal, you're always itchin' to lead. You make the call - do we head back or keep on going?"  
  
"You're letting me decide?" she asked, her eyes wide.  
  
"Yeah, you're right - stupid move," Beachhead smirked. "I say we keep going."  
  
"That's exactly what I was going to say," Lady Jaye mumbled under her breath. She grabbed her backpack.  
  
Beachhead surveyed the area. They were in the Outback, no man's land, full of things unfamiliar. The whole point of the competition was to battle the unexpected and the organizers were definitely giving them a run for their money. They'd lose serious points for Roadblock's disappearance and Scarlett's evacuation, but he'd be damned if they quit. Beachhead was going to finish this time, even if it killed him.  
  
"You know what, Beach?" Lady Jaye said quietly, coming up from behind him.  
  
"No. But I'm not sure I like that tone you're using."  
  
She laughed. "God, you even know my 'tone.'"  
  
He squinted into the bushes, still concentrating. "It's not hard to miss. Must make Flint -" Beachhead stopped himself: Don't get personal, Wayne.  
  
"Must make Flint crazy?" Lady Jaye finished for him, hands on hips.  
  
"Whatever. None of my business. Let's get moving." He took a swig of his canteen bottle and grabbed the rest of his things.  
  
"Beach, I was going to say that it might help me - as a competitor - to know what happened last time."  
  
"Corporal, zip it. Get your stuff."  
  
She didn't move. "Beach, you want to win, don't you? Fill me in."  
  
He turned round to give her a piece of his mind, but stopped when he saw the look in her eyes. It was the same fierce look Jaye gave Hawk when the general asked for her 'honest' opinion and she let him have it. Mouthy soldiers weren't high on Beachhead's list, but there was something different about Lady Jaye. She was intelligent - more than intelligent - clever. And while she'd never climb the ranks with her rogue-like nature, she was definitely an important member of the Joes. The problem is, Beachhead thought, she knows it.  
  
Still, he couldn't deny the logic behind her words.  
  
"Sit," Beachhead said.  
  
She did as she was told.  
  
He stood. "Last competition, as you know, our team didn't finish." Beachhead took a deep breath in: "It was my fault. Totally my fault and it still bothers me. I hate to fail. I don't fail - usually."  
  
"I know," Lady Jaye smiled reassuringly.  
  
He looked into her green eyes and, for a moment, their warmth pulled him in. He'd never noticed how beautiful and kind they were; eyes that could melt away worries in one glance. Beachhead turned away quickly. His tone turned harsh: "Whatever. Not important. Anyway, the reason we failed - I failed - is because I was weak. That's the long and short of it."  
  
Beachhead swallowed hard and set his jaw in determination. "We came across this town on day three of the race. At first, I thought we'd made a mistake and gone the wrong way. Wasn't supposed be any civilian settlements. The course is designed to be secret, right?"  
  
Lady Jaye nodded.  
  
"Then, I thought to myself, this is a trap. I know it's a trap. I told my men to get ready. So we crouched down, got real low, and waited. Nothing. It was like the town was deserted - rows and rows of houses with white picket fences and nobody outside. I decided to check it out myself."  
  
He stopped, frowning.  
  
"Tell me, Beach," Jaye said softly.  
  
"I don't know what happened, Jaye," he said. "I snuck into this house and I was almost sure - no, I'm positive I saw a Cobra goon. He pulled out a gun so I fired. Didn't think twice, it was instinct. But then, when I got closer I realized he wasn't from Cobra. It was a young boy. Christ, he couldn't have been more than fifteen. Jaye, I'm telling you, I saw the Cobra insignia. He had to be -"  
  
Beachhead turned to face her for the first time. "How could I have made that mistake, Jaye?"  
  
"It's not like you, sir."  
  
"No, it ain't," he said, shaking his head. "Anyway, suddenly all mayhem broke loose. These shots rang out. I thought the rest of my team had come in firing. I ran outside. the whole town was armed . I don't know who they were firing at. It's like I woke them up with my gunfire and they all went crazy. I couldn't see my team anywhere.  
  
Then I saw her."  
  
"Who?" Lady Jaye asked.  
  
"I saw a little girl hit the ground," he said softly. "I rushed to her and blood was pouring out a hole in her chest. and she looked at me, with this expression of pure - god, I don't know, hatred? Fear? - and she said, 'Look what you did.' She -" He shook off the thought. "All around me was screaming. Everywhere. It was like all the people's screams turned into one whirlwind that howled in my ears. and at some point I realized I was screaming too. People - children, all around me were being blown to bits and I couldn't figure out what was going on. Nothing made sense. I couldn't see my team members anywhere."  
  
"And then I heard it. I heard someone ask: do you give up?"  
  
Beachhead hung his head. "And I said, 'yes.' I didn't even really understand what they were asking. all I knew is that it had to everything had to stop. Thought I was responsible for screwing things up. Wanted to fix it, that's all."  
  
"Aw hell!" He said suddenly, kicking the dirt.  
  
Lady Jaye jumped up and put her hand on his shoulder. "Beach, it's not-"  
  
"What?" Beachhead spat, spinning round. "Not my fault? Is that what you were going to say, eh?" He grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. "Give me a fucking break!" She looked up at him, again with the green eyes that held him, that comforted him. Beachhead felt the anger draining from him and suddenly felt hollow. Empty. He let go of her and forced himself to look away. "I'm sorry, Jaye. Anyway, I blacked out after I gave up. Next thing I knew I was on the ground, still screaming and rocking back and forth."  
  
She stopped him, feeling the memory was too painful. "Beach."  
  
He ignored her. "Turns out the whole damn thing was some twisted 'illusion,' designed to test our ability to keep cool. I didn't know it, but my team members had led me to the town. Except they weren't my 'real' team members, they were actors. Everyone was a bloody actor. I'd been separated from my 'real' team the night before while I slept. They all faced different challenges and passed with flying colors."  
  
"How in the hell did.?"  
  
"Don't ask me, Lady Jaye. They've got the top technology here and some pretty damn good actors. Even managed to replace my gun with these crazy- ass blanks. This time round, we're not allowed weapons - if we were, I wouldn't trust them. Those creatures out there probably aren't real also. Hell, you're probably not real."  
  
"No, I'm real," Lady Jaye said. "Nobody could play me this well."  
  
He grinned. "Naw. Me neither. So that's it, Jaye Bird. That's the story and you keep it quiet, understand? Lesson learnt: don't trust anything out here."  
  
"That must've been awful," Lady Jaye said.  
  
"Lose the pity. Now you're turn."  
  
She looked up sharply. "What?"  
  
"What's going on with you?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"You're sick. I can tell."  
  
She remained quiet and stared at the ground.  
  
"Great, so I tell you what's wrong and now you won't tell me," Beachhead sighed, shaking his head. "Double standard."  
  
"Double standards are fine only if they work to my advantage," Lady Jaye said.  
  
Beachhead looked at her for a moment, his mind computing, then burst out in laughter. "Goddamnit. alright, Jaye Bird, I won't push on two accounts. One, you tell me if you're in serious trouble - don't konk out and make me retrace my steps, I hate that. and two - hey! YOU!" He snapped his fingers in front of her face to make sure she was listening. She bolted upright. "NUMBER TWO, Jaye. When we get back, you get yourself checked out. I mean it! No pansy-assin' around, no singing Broadway tunes in front of the mirror using your hairbrush as a microphone and all that crap."  
  
"I don't do that!" she protested.  
  
Beachhead stared at her.  
  
A shy smile broke across her face. "Much."  
  
***  
  
He was a leader. He'd always been a leader, ever since he could remember: the responsible older half-brother, the quarterback, the top-ranked student and the commanding officer. He wore achievement well, with assurance and just the right amount of humility. But for the first time in his life, Duke wanted someone else to lead, someone else to make the difficult decisions and let him go after her.  
  
This is what you get for always taking the spotlight, golden boy, Duke thought grimly, as he drove the jeep across the red desert.  
  
Snake Eyes sat up front with him, Spirit and Quick Kick in the back. In a sense, Duke was happy to have Snakes sitting next to him; he didn't ask questions. On the other hand, the ninja was more perceptive than the others and knew something was up. Duke caught him glancing over a couple of times as if he could read his thoughts.  
  
You look over here one more time, Snakes, and I'll kick your ass American- boxer style, Duke thought and then laughed at himself. Way to lose it, Conrad.  
  
"Something funny, sir?" Quick Kick asked from the back.  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Come on. We could use a joke."  
  
"I don't know any jokes," Duke said and then realized with a tinge of regret that it was true.  
  
"I got one," Quick Kick said.  
  
"Sure, you do," Duke sighed, wishing he'd be quiet.  
  
"How many Cobras does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"  
  
Snake Eyes held up two fingers.  
  
"Two? Why two?" Quick Kick asked, confused. "Why the hell would you say that?"  
  
Snake Eyes held up three fingers.  
  
"Okay, I could maybe understand two but why three, man? Come on!"  
  
"Which way is the wind blowing?" Spirit asked.  
  
Quick Kick shook his head in frustration. "Dudes. Comrades. You're missing the freakin-" "Everyone shut up!" Duke growled, feeling a headache setting in. "Keep your eyes pealed for danger. You see anything, you say so. Anything at all." No sooner had the words come out of his mouth, than a figure emerged in the distance. Snake Eyes pointed ahead. "I see him, Snake Eyes."  
  
Duke hit the gas and the jeep jerked forward violently, climbing over rocks and crushing any small plants in their way.  
  
The man in the distance spotted them and started waving frantically. Duke sped towards him and skidded to a halt.  
  
"Jesus, I am glad to see ya'll," the man said, running up to the window. Recognizing Duke's rank, he saluted: "Corporal Colin Kregger, sir."  
  
"Just call me Duke, son," he said. "This is Snake Eyes, Quick Kick and Spirit. Where's the rest of your team?"  
  
Colin's face fell. "I - I don't know."  
  
"What do you mean you don't know?"  
  
"The monsters came and took them."  
  
Duke studied the man. "Son, I think you've been out in the sun too long."  
  
"No sir! No!" Colin said, shaking his head. "I swear there's monsters! You gotta believe me. They're out there. They took them."  
  
The radio crackled: "Duke, Flint here. We've got a body. Mauled to death. Don't know by what. You copy?"  
  
Duke swallowed hard and stared into Colin's eyes. They were wide with fear. Hallucinations or not, he's seen something, Duke thought. Something awful.  
  
"Duke, Flint here. You copy?"  
  
Duke shook himself and brought the radio to his mouth. "Yeah, I copy. I think we're going to find out who's got the big teeth. Over."  
  
"Duke, we're-"  
  
The transmission cut out.  
  
"Cobra's doing some jamming," Spirit said.  
  
Duke put down the radio. "Colin, you think you could show us where you last saw these monsters?"  
  
The young soldier gave him a weak but brave smile. "Yes, sir." 


End file.
